Sweet Memories of You (Beach View Boarding House) (16 page)

Doreen quickly put the cover over the trusty Royal, stacked the paperwork in a neat pile and slammed the desk drawers shut with a little more energy than was necessary. She’d deal with all this later, but for now she had to find Maynard. She pulled on the white coat she had to wear in the labs, snatched up a notebook and pencil and pushed through the door into the large, brightly lit laboratory that smelled of chemicals.

Maynard was leaning over a bank of test tubes at the far end, his glasses in danger of dropping from his nose into a jar of something he was heating over a Bunsen burner.

‘Dr Maynard. I’m sorry I’m late back.’

He didn’t answer for a moment, fully engrossed in what he was doing. Then he set aside the jar, pushed his spectacles up his nose and looked at her with a frown. ‘I wondered where you were,’ he said. ‘But thank goodness you’re back. That other girl was useless.’ He shoved a pile of papers towards her. ‘Could you type this lot out, Doreen? The powers that be want it before the end of the day.’

‘Of course I will,’ she murmured, not really surprised that he hadn’t realised just how very late she was. ‘Dr Maynard, I will need another day off next week,’ she said hesitantly.

‘But you’ve just had a day off, Doreen.’ His myopic grey eyes stared at her through the thick lenses. ‘I can’t let you go again so soon. There’s work to do and things are taking an exciting turn.’

‘I have to attend a funeral in London,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ll only be gone for the day, and I’ll ensure I have proper cover this time.’

He blinked owlishly. ‘Oh. My condolences, Doreen. Yes, I can see that you’re upset. Was it someone close?’

She nodded, unable to speak for the lump that was in her throat.

‘Just make sure you don’t leave that girl with me again,’ he muttered before returning to his test tubes. ‘She was completely hopeless.’

Doreen could see that his mind was already elsewhere, so she quietly left the lab and went back into her office. She would have to go and see Veronica, who was the chief administrator of the office staff, to tell her that Maynard had allowed her another day’s leave.

Eyeing the telephone on the desk she thought of her children with longing, and wished it was possible to ring them so she could hear their voices and be reassured that they were still all right. But they were billeted in a tiny Welsh village that had yet to be connected to the outside world and it had been impossible to speak to them – let alone visit them – since war had begun. It was at moments like these that she really felt the distance between them, and would have given anything to just hold them.

The ready tears threatened again, so she turned from the telephone and opened the window to rid the small room of the smell of cheap perfume. Leaning out, she battled to overcome this awful sense of hopelessness, loss and isolation. Peggy would understand, and as she was on the telephone, it would be easy to talk to her. But what could she say? How to explain what had happened to her and Archie when she’d been warned not to breathe a word of it to anyone? And even if she did break the rules and make a private call on the office telephone, Peggy would know immediately that something was wrong – and it wouldn’t be fair to worry her.

She left the window and began to tackle the mess on her desk. It soon became apparent that her temporary replacement didn’t know how to file things, either. With a growing sense of frustration, Doreen spent the next hour going through everything until she was satisfied it was all correctly allocated. And then she dusted her desk, cleaned her typewriter and set to work on the latest batch of facts and figures Maynard needed by the end of the day. Work would get her through the coming hours and stop her from thinking, but she dreaded the night, for she knew there would be no escape from the dreams.

‘Jane will miss the shires,’ said Sarah. She and Fran were helping Peggy to prepare the evening meal of tiny meatballs seasoned with onion and peppery breadcrumbs, which would be served with macaroni and home-made spicy tomato sauce. ‘She’ll find it very strange not to feed and groom them every morning.’

‘They’ll still be here when she gets back,’ said Peggy comfortably, ‘and with things going so well in Russia and Africa, I’m sure this war won’t last much longer.’

‘They’ve certainly got Rommel on the run in Africa,’ said Rita, ‘but the rest of the world is still in chaos, especially in the Pacific. Let’s hope you’re right, Auntie Peg, and that all these bombing raids by the RAF will force Hitler to accept defeat. Poor Matt is exhausted from going out on so many sorties, and I’m terrified that he’ll get careless.’

‘It’s a worry for us all, Rita,’ sighed Peggy. ‘When I think of Martin and the other brave young boys up there …’

‘To be sure there’s no point in getting maudlin about it,’ rumbled Ron, looking up from lighting his pipe. ‘Those boys know what they’re doing.’

He sucked on his pipe until the match caught the tobacco and he had a good fug going. ‘By the way, Rita, what have you done with your father this evening?’

‘He’s gone for a ride on the Norton to look at what’s left of our old place before he eats at the Crown. I didn’t fancy going back there – it’s too depressing – so he’s coming here after tea.’

‘He could have shared with us,’ said Peggy, even though there was little enough in the first place.

Rita shook her head and laughed. ‘He’s fine, Auntie Peg. The landlady at the Crown seems to have taken a shine to him, so he’s being well fed, believe me.’

‘Well, he needs to watch himself,’ Peggy warned. ‘Gloria Stevens has very few morals, and most of those are easily dispensed with at the sight of a good-looking chap with a fat wallet.’

Ron chuckled. ‘Careful, Peg. You’re in danger of sounding like Doris.’

‘I speak as I find,’ she retorted with a sniff. ‘And there are many people in this town who would agree with me that Gloria runs a highly suspect establishment.’

Ron turned to Rita, clearly deciding it might be politic to change the subject. ‘How did you get on with asking John Hicks for time off while your dad’s here?’

‘He was fine about it, but I’ll have to stay on standby in case there’s an emergency. It was lovely to see John enjoying himself last night, wasn’t it? The poor man’s really feeling a bit low now his Sally has taken the kids to her aunt in Somerset.’

‘It was nice to see Sally and her little ones before she left,’ said Peggy, who’d come down from her high horse and was feeling mellow again. ‘Her Aunt Vi is going to have a very full house, what with my lot, Sal’s brother Ernie as well as her and the two kids. I have to say, I don’t envy her.’

‘Vi’s a good woman who lives in a very large and rambling farmhouse,’ said Ron around his pipe stem. ‘And I’m sure Anne and Sal will roll up their sleeves, get all those boys organised in their chores, and make light work of everything.’

Peggy smiled fondly, for Sally and her little crippled brother had been her first evacuees from London at the beginning of the war. Sal had proved to be a wonderful dressmaker as well as a hard-working and caring little mother for Ernie, and Peggy had been thrilled when she’d married the fire chief – she did so love a good romance. She’d been even more delighted to hear that Ernie was walking again without the aid of callipers, which only went to prove that good country air, fresh milk, eggs and butter could heal most things, even the after-effects of polio.

She turned from her thoughts of Sally and the others and noticed that Sarah was sitting with her knitting in her lap, staring into the fire. Her little face was wan, her eyes still swollen from the tears she’d shed today. Poor Sarah, she was lost without Jane – just as Fran was lost now Suzy was gone – and John was feeling abandoned without his children and Sally. Peggy couldn’t solve John’s problems, no matter how much she might wish she could, but at least she might be able to put her own house in order.

She checked on the macaroni, waited until Fran had finished setting the table and then sat down. ‘I was thinking of asking Ivy to come and live with us,’ she said into the lull. ‘She’s not at all happy with Doris, and I don’t like the thought of her feeling so isolated there.’

‘That’s a brilliant idea,’ said Rita. ‘Ivy must be missing Mary, and she’d fit right in here. But won’t Doris take umbrage?’

‘Of course she will, but I’m guessing it will only be a token objection,’ said Peggy. ‘Doris and Caroline Lah-di-dah have made it pretty clear they want nothing much to do with the poor girl except boss her about.’

‘That Caroline is a snooty piece all right,’ said Fran, shaking back her russet curls. ‘She sits in the administrator’s office at the hospital and looks down her nose at anyone who isn’t a doctor or consultant. It’s clear she’s on the lookout for a rich husband, so I’d say she and Doris are perfectly suited. I certainly have no objection to Ivy coming here.’

‘In that case,’ said Peggy, ‘I was wondering if we should have a change round in rooms. I could put Ivy in the single back room at the top of the house, and perhaps you two could share one of the big front doubles?’

She watched as Fran and Sarah looked at one another. Fran had certainly missed Suzy and although she’d said she rather liked having her own room, Peggy wasn’t convinced. As for Sarah, she would need some company after sharing with Jane for the past year.

‘What do you say, Sarah?’ asked Fran. ‘D’you think you can put up with me coming in all hours and making a mess?’

Sarah’s smile was wan. ‘I got used to Jane’s mess, so I expect I could cope.’

‘Please say if you don’t want to,’ persisted Fran. ‘I’ll not take offence. But I’m thinking we’re both feeling a wee bit lost, and it would be good to have someone to chat to at night.’

‘Yes, I think that’s a very good idea.’ Then Sarah smiled. ‘As long as you don’t chatter all night – or snore.’

‘That’s settled then,’ said Peggy before Fran could protest about her snoring – which at times was quite loud.

‘I don’t mind sharing with Ivy,’ Rita piped up. ‘She and I get on like a house on fire, and it will free up that single room as well as two of the doubles for someone else.’

‘But you’ve never shared before,’ said Peggy. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t mind, Rita?’

‘Of course I don’t mind. It’ll be fun.’ Her brown eyes twinkled as she shook back her dark curls, the fetching dimple in her cheek enhancing her cheeky smile.

Peggy could just imagine the shenanigans with those two imps sharing. Neither of them was the tidiest of people, so she’d have her work cut out trying to keep them and their room in order. But then this old house needed livening up a bit. Things had become too gloomy of late.

She glanced up at the clock on the mantel. ‘Cordelia should have been back from Bertie’s dinner party by now,’ she murmured. ‘I do hope he isn’t tiring her out.’

‘To be sure it’s probably the other way round,’ said Ron with a glint in his eyes. ‘That woman could try the patience of a saint, so she could.’

Everyone laughed and the mood was lightened as they sat in the heart of the home that was Beach View, feeling the closeness of the ties that bound them.

Doreen kept a close eye on the clock as she tried to decipher Maynard’s scrawled writing and type the seemingly endless notes he needed before six. It was already dark outside, the blackout curtain was drawn, and the single low-watt bulb wasn’t much help, for the words kept dancing before her eyes and her fingers were clumsy. Having rubbed out yet another typing error, she took two aspirin to ward off the ever-tightening band of pain at the back of her head and hoped they’d do the trick.

It was just past six by the time she’d typed the last few words and pulled the paper and carbon copies from the machine with a sigh of relief. The long day was finally over and now all she wanted was to sink into bed and hope that she’d fall asleep so deeply that she wouldn’t dream. She didn’t normally suffer from headaches and up until now her health had always been robust, so it was disconcerting to feel so poorly.

Deciding that she was simply low because of all that had happened, she placed the sheets in their separate folders and massaged her temples. She might have damaged something in her neck during that awful squash in the tunnel, for it was still tender and the muscles felt very tight.

‘Hello, Doreen. I heard you were back.’

She looked round to see her supervisor and friend Veronica Parks standing in the doorway. Ronnie was neatly dressed in a skirt, jacket and blouse, her fair hair curled back from her face in victory rolls and tethered in a dark green snood. Short and slender, she leaned heavily on an ivory-topped walking stick – a necessary aid since a childhood bout of polio.

‘Yes, I’m sorry I was so late, but I got stuck in London,’ Doreen explained.

‘You’re a whole day late, Doreen, and I’ve had the devil’s own job to cover for you.’

‘Again, I’m sorry, but I couldn’t help it.’

Veronica’s concerned gaze swept over her and she pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘What happened, Doreen?’

Ronnie always did get straight to the point, and it was disconcerting, especially when there was something to hide. Doreen looked away from her and fiddled with the folders on her desk. ‘I missed my train,’ she hedged.

‘Doreen, we’ve known each other for over four years and I can tell when you’re holding something back. You look ghastly,’ she said bluntly. ‘You’re not wearing make-up and certainly don’t have the glow of a woman who’s been away for a dirty few days with her man.’

She paused, but as Doreen made no attempt to answer her, she gave an exasperated sigh. ‘Something happened to make you miss that train, Doreen, and I think you owe me an honest explanation.’

The images of that terrifying ordeal brought a lump to her throat and Doreen had to blink away the tears and battle to find some sort of composure. Ronnie deserved an answer, but to form the words – to say them out loud – was proving almost impossible. ‘We … Archie and I …’ she began and then fell silent, the weight of memories too heavy.

Ronnie was immediately contrite and she reached across to take Doreen’s hand. ‘Oh, Doreen, don’t say you’ve split up. But why? You seemed so happy.’